


to be or not to be, that is the question

by vex72



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M, Mild Angst, Mild Smut, idiot plot the entire way through, penny and agatha are the only intelligent people in this story, super duper fluffy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:41:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23472646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vex72/pseuds/vex72
Summary: Simon is conflicted over his (potential) feelings for a certain grumpy prat, and decides to do something about it, and by something I mean magic. Because talking about your feelings would be too easy.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 4
Kudos: 35





	to be or not to be, that is the question

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first time writing something like this, so bear with me. hope y'all enjoy the fluff, more is to come soon (hopefully)

_Dark, long locks frame stormy grey and green eyes. I gulp, letting him come closer. The dream is the same every time. Long, elegant fingers make their way up my side, and my breath hitches. He backs me up to the wall of our room, his other hand that isn’t on my side pulling at my hair, just the way I like it. As usual, I can’t resist and move in for the final move, cherry red lips mere centimeters apart from mine. I close my eyes, lashes fluttering nervously as always._

**_“Simon.”_ ** ****

I jolt up in my bed, sweat pouring down my back. For the past two weeks, the dreams have been relentless, especially the one that just occupied my unconscious. I can’t help but glance over at Baz’s bed, feeling frustrated and angry at him. _After all, who else could possibly be making this happen? He’s definitely plotting. He’s_ _always_ _plotting._ I make my way out of bed reluctantly, needing a proper cold shower to drown out the nonsense pouring into my head from that stupid dream. Honestly, I wouldn’t be nearly half as angry with them if they weren’t so… _vivid._ I stop myself here, a shiver running up my spine. Best not to get too invested in the details, unless I fancy going mad before breakfast. 

Checking the time, I half run out of Mummer’s House, and head towards the dining hall, hoping that there are still sour cherry scones to be had. I smile lazily at the thought, already making it to the door. I load up my plate as usual, and sit down with a huff next to Penny, who immediately moves to warm up my food for me. I had come in thirty minutes late after all, which as of lately could only mean one thing. 

“Well?” Penny prompts, used to the new routine the group has formed. Agatha has to suppress the urge to roll her eyes, but tunes into the conversation nonetheless.

“He’s plotting. He’s plotting away like the prat he is and I’m tired of it! Why can’t he just leave me and my dreams alone, for Merlin’s sake!” 

Penny and Agatha share a knowing look. Well, at least, a knowing look for them. I, as usual, am three steps behind them and am left out of the loop once again. No matter how much I berate and harass them for an explanation for this ever growing familiar look, all I get is a silent shake of the head. I groan, frustrated once again at the thoughts they continue to withhold from me. 

“Have… have you considered that maybe, he isn’t plotting this time?” Agatha uselessly throws out, only barely hoping to get a “real” answer from me.

“Of COURSE he’s plotting! Why, Crowley, else would I keep having this stupid dream about Baz! BAZ, of ALL people! There’s no other explanation, he has to be the one behind this.”

My voice carries more than intended from my outbreak, and I can feel the blood rushing to my face almost immediately from the stares I gather. I can already feel Baz’s eyes on me, with that telltale smirk spreading across his face. 

At this point, Penny decides that I’ve already reached my “Baz quota” for the period, and I’m forced to keep my frustrations to myself until tea time later on. I steal a glance towards Baz’s table, across the room from ours. We immediately lock eyes, and almost start one of our infamous glaring matches across the room when the room starts clearing out, indicating breakfast is nearly over. I quickly finish my meal, putting extra butter on my last scone just to spite Baz, since I knew he’d be watching. _He hates when I do this, and usually calls me something along the lines of “disgusting pig,” or simply just offers an incredulous look if he’s feeling less snappy than usual._

Today, I unfortunately have what feels like a thousand classes with Baz, all bound to be filled with his familiar mockery. I grit my teeth, willing myself to ignore it and just make it through the first half of the day problem-free.

Of course, this wouldn’t be the case. It never is after I have one of those dreams.

At one point, he even does this thing where he leans in real close, as we’re partners in Miss Possibelf’s class, and whispers antagonistically into my ear. “Don’t muck this one up, I’d like to pass, Snow.”

I almost can’t help the flush that rises all the way to my ears from the proximity. 

I finally make it through the classes of the day, and drag myself to go have my regularly scheduled tea time with Penny. I flop down in a chair, and she’s already heating my cup for me to the perfect temperature. 

She’s reading, as usual, and ignoring me for as long as she can before I get mad. She knows what’s coming, of course, but she can’t help but try and postpone it as long as possible to save herself the earful coming her way. I don’t stop pouting until her book is shut, and her full attention is on me. 

“Alright, out with it Simon. What did he do this time?” She spits out, although I know by now she doesn’t intend it to sound malicious. I frown at her boredom with my predicament, and start into the typical rant.

“I just- everytime I think I’m going to have a normal night’s sleep, in he creeps with the weirdly… erotic dreams and I’m just tired of it! I hardly know what to make of it at this point. And then, it’s like he _knows_ I’ve had them, or at least suspects, because everything he does that day is a thousand times worse than usual!” I manage to get these words out in one go, minimal stuttering for once. Typically, this rant can take 15 minutes and up due to my lack of a way with words. The world seems to have finally taken pity on my suffering, however, and grants me this one small victory. 

Penny stares pointedly at me, and if I didn’t know better I’d think she was glaring. 

“Simon,” she starts carefully, “Agatha had a point this morning. I seriously doubt he intends for your subconscious to fantasize about him nearly every night. Otherwise, I would find it difficult to believe he hates you at all.” 

Once again, I find myself groaning in annoyance, never pleased with the answers she gives on this particular subject. And for once, I let it go, albeit momentarily. I feel the slightest pang of guilt for talking her ear off about Baz all week, so I allow her to get back to her book. As she resumes reading, I take this time to look across the room to where Baz and his lackeys reside. 

One of them must say something funny, because Baz’s eyes crinkle up in humor and he chuckles just the slightest bit. For just a moment, I take in the sight, not realizing how strange this must look to an outsider witnessing the one sided exchange on my part. I begrudgingly tear my eyes away, and attempt to work on an assignment given out today. 

* * *

**Baz**

  
I’m in love with Watford’s biggest prat. 

He seems to be under the impression that I can’t feel those steely blue eyes boring into me from across the library. I struggle to resist staring right back, and eventually succumb to my desire. Instead of full on staring, however, I only allow myself to look from out of the corners of my eyes. After all, it wouldn’t do for him to know how much I want this. 

He’s currently making a funny face at me, and I can’t quite make out the expression. If I was a fool, I’d almost think it was adoration. I can’t help the slightest flush rising to the balls of my cheeks at the thought. 

As much as I love this game of ours, I decide for my own sanity to head out for the Wandering Woods, to try and blow off some steam. All of my teasing of him today had me flustered, seeing how he reacted with rosy cheeks and a pout to die for every single time. _Oh, Merlin, why did he have to react so fervently every time? It’s beginning to go to my head._

While usually my visits to the woods involved hunting game for blood, this time I really just needed to be alone. As much as Niall and Dev amuse me, sometimes a break from their hijinks is well needed. I make my way to my favorite clearing, with a giant oak tree climbing up towards the sky in the middle. Climbing up, I settle into a nook in one of the branches, and let my legs swing as I stare out into the woods from my perch. From here, I have the perfect view of a crystal clear blue river, winding through and away from where I am. The color reminds me dearly of Snow’s during a fight, steely grey and yet so devastatingly bright. My heart aches at the thought, so I push the image away. Right now, I don’t need this distraction. Instead, I’ll simply enjoy the view.

Afterwards, I head back to our room to finish my book, thoughts of him following me all the way back. My efforts of pushing images of him away were unsuccessful as per usual, so I’m only a little bitter over the defeat. Once I make it there, I decide to make good use of our room’s sofa. Without Snow here to hog the seat, I’m welcome to make myself comfortable. I settle in, book in hand, and dive back in.

At some point in the book, the plot starts to slow alongside my heartbeat. My eyes struggle to remain open, so I set the book down on my stomach open, to keep my page while I give myself a break from the literature. I close my eyes, and as if on cue, thoughts of bronze locks and sun-kissed skin fill my imagination. I allow myself these few selfish moments, of indulgence, and savor them deeply. I draw up images of his rosy lips, pink tinged cheeks, eyelashes fluttering in that dumb way they do when he’s confused. Crowley, I’m truly hopeless.

I had, of course, had plenty of time to come to this conclusion years ago. I’d blame his shadowing of my every move in fifth year, but it would be a brazen lie to pretend it hadn’t occurred sooner. 

Part of me knows I’m doomed to be sickeningly in love with Snow until the inevitable day he puts me out of my misery, but until then I continue to allow myself these few moments of luxury, of thoughts of him doting over me instead of hating my very existence. 

At this point, the book is the last thing on my mind. I comb a hand absentmindedly through my hair, examining the length. It has grown quite a bit due to my reluctance to cut it. Every time I do, I get quite a few comments from Snow about the change, and the tone always sounds almost sad, as if he had a preference. While I usually wouldn’t humor such a thought, I’m feeling generous with myself today. 

Somehow, some way, everything in my life seems to practically revolve around Simon Snow, and I’m not sure whether I hate this revelation more, or the fact that I don’t mind anymore. 

_What I wouldn’t give to have you as my lover, instead of my dearest enemy, sweet, lovely, Simon Snow._

Merlin and Morgana, when did I get to be this pathetic? When I see him again, I’ll have to tear into him even harder than usual (no innuendos intended).

In a feeble attempt to hate Snow for the rest of the day, in my mind I draw up a scene of me killing him, once and for all. My fangs graze against his neck, and I can feel his pulse pounding against my lips. Aggravatingly, my subconscious decides this was too erotic, and it shifts from a murder plot to me pulling him onto my lap. I grab the nearest pillow off of the couch, and scream half-heartedly into it. 

Wishing to end today’s drawn out fantasy, I let my eyes close completely, and drift off into a thankfully dreamless sleep. 

* * *

**Simon**

Penny eventually decides that she needs to head back to her room before dinner, to have some time alone to review for upcoming tests and assignments. I considered staying to finish the assignment I had been working on, but with nobody to keep me company, I decided against it and headed back to my room. Well, what would be my room if I didn’t share it with Baz, that is. 

I open the door, and immediately freeze. 

_Oh._

Sprawled lazily across our dorm’s couch, Baz lays eyes closed, a book still open on his stomach. I can’t help myself, my eyes are practically glued to the scene. I warily take a step closer, subconsciously scared that any sudden movements will end this vision. 

His long, dark eyelashes sit elegantly against his cheeks, and messy hair covers half of his face. I resist the urge to tuck the stray hair behind his ear, and kick myself mentally for even wanting to do so in the first place. 

Honestly, I’d have stood there for hours, watching, if I didn’t remember just who I was standing in front of. 

A cool breeze from the open window jarrs me from my thoughts, suddenly remembering how cold it can get in the room at night, at least for Baz, anyways. I always feel unbearably hot, but I suppose the whole vampire thing makes it harder to stay warm? Until now, I hadn’t taken the time to think about it. I shake my head, pushing the thoughts away. 

Then, as if I had made room for another equally intrusive thought, I consider putting a blanket over his sleeping form, so that he doesn’t wake up shivering as he usually does. A tiny pang of guilt washes over me at this. _What the fuck am I doing? I’m never this considerate of his feelings. Since when do I care? He certainly never considers mine._

Acting almost against my will, my arms rushedly pulled my blanket off my bed. _He’d just be irritated that I made him remake his bed if I used his, and mine is never made anyways._ Just as I’m about to throw it over him, my eyes go back to the book on his stomach. I sigh, and grab the nearest sheet of paper off my desk. I almost just shove it in the book, but something in me makes me pause. Hesitantly, I write a small note on the paper, and fold it into the book. I set it aside on the table next to the couch, and carefully put the blanket over Baz. _He’d never let me hear the end of it if he caught me in the act of lovingly tucking him in. Wait, lovingly? Never-mind._

After a quick glance over him, making sure none of his excessively long limbs were hanging out, I rush, as quietly as I can manage in my newfound state of devastating embarrassment at what I’ve just done. 

Half running out the door, face burning beet red, I head for the ramparts to hide. Yes, hide. I’m not sure what I’d even say if someone caught me, well, as red-faced as I am at the moment. 

_Fuck me, why’d I go and do that anyways?_

* * *

**Baz**

_What the fuck?_

I wake up, maybe an hour later, engulfed in the smell of Simon Snow. At first, my half asleep brain leads me to believe that I’m in his bed, and if I roll over, I might even find him sleeping peacefully next to me. This, of course, is not the case. I’m still where I was before, only now his blanket is over me. I pause, trying to remember if I had grabbed it myself, but know I’d never do such a thing so I shove that thought aside. The only other person who would have come into our room was him, but why? As I consider the situation at hand, I remember my book. I look under the blankets, not finding it, but instead find it sitting closed on the table next to me. I see a piece of paper sticking out of it, and move to grab it. Careful not to lose the marker page, I examine the messily folded sheet. I turn it over, and see familiar messy writing. My heart almost stops as I unfold it, to find a little note written inside.

_"You really should invest in a bookmark one of these days."_

It’s not signed or anything, but I’d recognize the handwriting anywhere. I suddenly remember all the other times I’ve fallen asleep, book still in hand, only to wake up the next day, with something of mine marking the page. I’d always figured I just couldn’t remember marking it, as I’m sure I was always nearly asleep at that point, but now I’m not so naive. 

I feel a smirk forming on my face with the newfound knowledge. I can’t help it, a giddy laugh even forces its way out of me at the thought of him carefully tucking the blanket around me, so that I wouldn’t be cold. _Maybe Snow is a little more into me than I originally thought, that being not at all, obviously. No, that’s silly. Don’t be an idiot, Baz._

I untangle myself from the blanket, and make my way to his bed. _One good deed constitutes another, yeah?_ I gingerly make the bed back up, leaving it much neater than it certainly was before. 

As I'm fixing the pillows back to their proper places, I catch another whiff of the familiar scent. Watford’s soap, apples, and the slightest bit of cinnamon. I want to slap myself for even contemplating taking a deep breath of it in. _Stupid._

I figure now is as good of a time as any to head to the dining hall. I notice Snow across the way, already seated, likely waiting for the rest of the Mystery Gang to arrive. I roll my eyes at the thought, a soft smile nearly making it to my face before I catch myself. _Crowley, I’ve really got to stop myself one of these days._

Sitting in my usual place, perfectly across from Snow’s, I begin the usual task of pushing the meal around on my plate until I can make my way back to our room. This part of the day is my least favorite. How tedious.

* * *

**Simon**

I stayed out there for well over an hour, but the red never seemed to want to leave my face now that it had made its way there. I begrudgingly head for the dining hall, half an hour early but it doesn’t matter. I’ll take any distraction I can get at this point, seeing as I spent the entire time in the ramparts running over the mental image of Baz, vulnerable, laying on our couch. _Fuck me, it was honestly cute, and I hate how I can’t deny that fact even in my own mind._

I sit at our usual table, and wait for Penny and Agatha to show up. When they finally arrive, they must notice the unusual flush to my face, and am given a slight cock of the brow in response from Penny. I don’t even wait for them to prompt me this time, I dive straight into my rant this time.

As I’m blustering through the scene that occurred, another knowing look is exchanged between the pair. Agatha can’t even contain her laughter when I try to explain how he was clearly doing this on purpose, and that there’s a plot brewing in his mind. 

“Oh Si, you’re so oblivious sometimes, even to the most obvious things. You LIKE him! Crowley, you might even be in love with him with how badly you’re obsessed with him.”

I gape at her, dumbstruck by the accusation she just unleashed on me. 

“Wha- no! Why- why would I- what?” I start, blushing even harder than before. “What kind of masochist do you think I am? He HATES me!” 

My volume is just shy of yelling at this point, my embarrassment making my ears ring. I know by now people are turning to watch this exchange, and I hate how I can feel Baz’s eyes burning holes into me from across the room. I steal the quickest glance in his direction, and his stupid knowing eyebrows are already cocked at me, a smirk moving across his ivory face. If anything, I blush even harder. 

I lower my voice, nearly praying that he hadn’t heard what she had said. After all, there’s only one person anyone would think she was referring to. “Aggie, you can’t be serious. Why would I be… why would I like him?” I stumble over these words, struggling to even get them out. They both sigh at my response. Penny turns to me now, grabbing me by the shoulders.

“You talk about him every single day. You bring him up at every opportunity granted. You followed him around for an entire year, and still to this day watch him at every practice and game. You even have wet dreams about him Si. Of course you’re in love with him.” She releases my face, and goes back to her book, ignoring me now that she’s said what she wanted to. 

I can’t help myself, I look up at Baz once more. Normally, I wouldn’t be surprised to find him staring at me already, but with what Agatha has just said, it makes my heart momentarily stop. I immediately look away again, not sure what to do with this information. A frown, no, a full-on pout, settled into my face. 

“That’s- that’s just ridiculous.” I’m only muttering now, not trusting my words not to betray me further. Suddenly, the scones loaded onto my plate don’t look half as inviting as before. I push up from the table, and stalk out of the hall. After all of this, I’ve completely lost my appetite. (Although, I’m sure I’ll regret that later.) They don’t bother trying to stop me at this point, and allow me this little moment of solace from their attacks.

For the second time today, I hide myself away, this time in the Wandering Woods, and begin my usual de-stressing activities. By this, I mean slashing away at every tree and shrub in my path. As I’m particularly flustered today, the woods looks like a tornado tore through it by the time I’m finished. Panting, I flop down onto the cool moss beneath me, appreciating the relief it brings to my burning skin. 

_Baz? Really? Why, of all people, would I like Baz? Plus, am I even gay? Hard to like a bloke if you’re not gay._ I stop myself here for a moment. _Am_ I gay? I’d never honestly sat down and considered it, until now of course. I mean, yeah, I find most goblins to be incredibly fit, and I’d be a liar if I said I hadn’t stolen a few glances at a certain grouchy prat. But is that gay? Maybe. Fuck if I know, that’s for sure. 

I had quite a few lists in my head of things I didn’t think about. To name a few, Baz, my feelings, and sexuality were frequently featured on there. What good comes from that, anyways? It’s not like I’m going out of my way to get a date, either way. With the status of “Chosen One” hanging over my head like a neon, flashing sign saying “stay away,” people tended to avoid me, generally. Only a handful of people can even stand to be near me when my magic starts leaking out anyways, and, annoyingly, one of those is Baz.( _Of course.)_ I resist the urge to scream away the irritation that comes hand in hand with that thought. It won’t do to have some students hear, and think I’m finally going insane for good. 

I take a look around me, surveying the damage done, when I realize just how late it is at this point. I dust myself off, mostly, and drag myself back to my shared dorm. I’d rather feel awkward in our room than be locked out here all night when the drawbridge goes up. 

“Crowley, Snow, try not to track so much of the woods into our dorm,” Baz sneers, muttering a **Clean as a Whistle** in my general direction. I ignore him, and make my way to the bathroom, locking it behind me. I plan to take an annoyingly long shower, just to spite him. I know he hates how it makes the entire room steamy. 

As I'm drying off, I realize my mistake. _Fuck me, I went and forgot my shirt again._ Quickly, I pull my flannel pants over myself and toss the towel onto my shoulder, hair still slightly dripping on my face. I make a beeline to the wardrobe, and dig around for a thin t-shirt to throw on, when I feel eyes on my back. I rub the towel over my head once more, and turn around as I slip the shirt on. I catch Baz’s eyes on me for the slightest moment before he stiffly looks away, pointedly ignoring my existence once more. If I hadn’t been paying such close attention, I might have missed the slightest flush of his face. I almost can’t help the slightest smirk that pulls at the corners of my mouth at this.

_Interesting. Wait, no. Don’t… don’t go there, Simon._

I can feel my eyebrows pulling together at my own confusion, and decide instead to just throw myself into bed. Part of me hopes this awkward tugging at my heart will fade soon, and another regretfully hopes it never will. 

_I have to do something about this._

Hours pass, my eyes struggling to stay open and finish my assignments, and I look up for what is likely the millionth time tonight at Baz. He’s currently pulling his hair up into some kind of ponytail, to prevent it from getting in his face I presume. His eyes meet mine, and I don’t even bother starting one of our infamous glaring matches tonight. Merlin knows how that would end for me, while I’m in this state. I close my book, and toss it onto my desk, giving up for the night. 

I would go immediately to sleep, but it’s insufferably stuffy in our room tonight. I groan, and pull the shirt back off, throwing it onto what I assume is my desk chair. I fall back onto my bed, and try to turn my brain off for the rest of the night. I don’t feel like torturing myself anymore.


End file.
